Confession
by freakinwinky
Summary: I have watched you and I am sorry... Nymphadora Tonks silently muses over what she will never say. (companion to Lullaby)


**Confession  
  
**I have watched you and I am sorry.  
  
I've tried to control it. Believe me, I have.  
  
I've told myself it's ridiculous to be mesmerized every time you walk into the room. I've told myself time and again that it is not right, to be so attracted to you.  
  
After all, you are the best friend of, the person I've thought of as my Uncle. You have always seemed light years ahead of me. It's not just the age, but knowledge, intelligence.  
  
You seem to know more than I could ever attempt to learn in ten life times. It's as if you carry the knowledge, the pain, the sin of the world on your shoulders, all the while wearing the soft polite smile I've seen so many times.  
  
Then of course there's me, clumsy, barely adept at all. Too young to know my way around well, anywhere really. Developing crushes on men nearly twice my age.  
  
I've told myself to stop being so juvenile. But it never seems to do me any good.  
  
My eyes still flit unwillingly in your direction every time you come near to me. Near enough for my wayward eyes to catch a glint of your small grey hair that intertwines with your soft brown curls. Near enough to find the flaw in one long tooth mixed into your brilliant, but not quite white, smile.  
  
I've even watched you when you were not near me. Watched you when I wasn't supposed to. Those moments when you thought you were alone on the couch by the fire pretending to read. I can always tell if you are or not by watching your eyes. they're focused and stationary when your thinking hard.

Or when your in the parlor staring out at the not quite full moon and sighing quietly.  
  
While I watch you I wonder what it would be like to fear the moon. To be able to count the days until you become something other than yourself. Something wild, dangerous.  
  
It is strange to think of you that way. You have always been mild, comforting, worn. Almost like that old couch in the parlor you love so much.  
  
Then again, it's strange to think of you in other ways too. Ways I keep trying to tell my mind not to stray towards. But my thoughts, like my eyes, don't seem to want to obey my better judgment.  
  
I've often wondered what it would be like to, at last, be the one to comfort _you._

To not take the comfort that you give so freely, but to allow you to take mine instead.  
  
I've wanted desperately to feel your arms around me, for you to meet my lips and hold me there until the rest of the world disappears.  
  
Stupid I know.  
  
And I know this is nothing to boast about. God knows, I've been more embarrassed about feeling this way, watching you, than anyone else. Not that anyone else knows. I hope...

I know what they would all do if they found out. They would laugh and they would be right. I'm nothing more than a silly little school girl with a crush.  
  
It might not feel that way to me, but that's what it is in the end. A simple crush.  
  
Sometimes I wonder what you would do if I told you about this... whatever it is. I can't believe that you would laugh like the others.  
  
Perhaps you would smile the amused, somewhat saddened smile that you use with Hermione Granger when she tells you about her plans to save the house elves. The smile that says something like: _'It would be nice, but it could never happen'.  
_  
After I told you my gazing eyes would continually be self conscious, wondering weather or not you were watching. Dreading the moment you give me that smile again, reinforcing what I already know, but will never admit, even to myself.  
  
Maybe that's why I've never told you.  
  
Even when I'm lying here, on your couch and I can hear you walking to the window to stare at the morning light, I know I will not say anything. I will try.

But I know that eventually, I will lose my nerve and be silent  
  
No matter how many times I've rehersed the speech in my head. Particularly during those night watches when you are the only thought that keeps me awake.  
  
No matter how many times I've tried to bully myself into saying something, anything that would so much as hint at what I am feeling.  
  
No matter how many oprotunities I have missed. The words always seem to get lost in my mouth every time I look into your brown eyes flecked with green. The eyes that always have certain sadness no matter what your mood.  
  
So, knowing that I will not, cannot say it this morning, I will pretend to sleep until you call.  
  
I will wait for you to wake me. To use my name.  
  
Not the name that everyone knows me by. Not the name that I prefer.  
  
My true name  
  
The name that I don't even dare say myself  
  
The one I never thought I could learn to love until I heard you say it.  
  
The name I will still only let you say, and even then reluctantly.  
  
That name...  
  
'Nymphadora?'  
  
' Hmm? I've told you Remus...it's Tonks'  
  
'Breakfast is nearly ready. Molly's in the kitchen.'  
  
'What time is it?'  
  
'About five o'clock I think.'  
  
'Why so early?'  
  
'The hearing remember?'  
  
'Oh, right. Well, you go on ahead. I'll be there in a few minuets'  
  
'All right.'  
  
And with that you've moved into the kitchen and of my sight. The words got lost again, just like I knew they would. Perhaps someday they won't. Perhaps someday you will not intimidate me. Perhaps someday I will have the courage not to fear your sad, amused smile.  
  
Until then I suppose I will still watch you no matter how hard I try not to.  
  
Until then I will make sure you are safe, comforted when there is no one to give your comfort to.  
  
Until then I will simply have to whisper to myself what I mean to say to you.  
  
'I love you, Remus'


End file.
